Collide
by Inked-Pawprints
Summary: A series of short oneshots revolving around the relationship between Prussia and Canada x
1. Better Together

Basking in the evening rays, he leaned back with a sigh of contentment. Grasping the guitar, he strummed a chord in experiment; the instrument wasn't half bad for being a cheap find. In fact, it held a sweet, simple sound, one that was lovely to hear and sung with feelings of endless blue skies and gentle ocean waves.

Playing another few notes, he hummed with the reverberating strings, soft as to not disturb the other in the white washed beach house. Falling into the well-rehearsed song, his fingertips danced across the surface of the guitar, plucking notes into the air around him with ease. He would never be as good as Matthew, but he did have some skill in the musical department. Now, give him a piano or violin and he would rock until his fingers bled exhaustion; those two instruments were the ones he prided himself in, and damn if he wasn't awesome at it. Guitar, though, was Matthew's thing; the kid was a natural, the way he could harmonize the music. Quite amazing, really.

_"There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard, no song that I could sing but I can try for your heart…"_ the line was sung with feeling, and he jumped as a pair of lips brushed over the top of his head, soft and quiet.

Matthew sat on the top of the steps with him, looking at the sinking sun in the distance. The gold of dusk touched his hair perfectly, framing the edges and turning his already blond hair a shade lighter with the beach sunset. He admired how handsome he was; Gilbert knew that he was lucky to have him. It wasn't every day that you would find someone as perfect as Canada.

Prussia hummed the accompanying lyrics; laughing, Matthew rested his head his shoulder and leaned against his side, pressing into him. They fit like matching puzzle pieces, and Gilbert felt a genuine smile spread across his face.

"Can't sing, eh?"

"Maybe not."

Chucking again, Matthew started up on the song again, picking up from where Prussia had left off. _"And all of the moments might just find their way into my dreams tonight, but I know that they'll be gone when the morning lights sings…"_

The two sat outside on the porch steps, one humming the accompany melodies to match the other's rising and falling voice. It was moments like these that he loved, caught up in an easy relationship that didn't require meaningless chatter or pillow talk. Just two guys with a guitar, enjoying the company and watching the sun set low over the horizon.

_"I believe in memories; they look so, so pretty when I sleep-Hey now, and when I wake up, you look so pretty sleeping next to me. But there is not enough time, and there is no, no song I could sing, and there is no combination of words I could say; but I will still tell you one thing, we're better together."_

Letting the last note fade into the sound of the ocean's whispering, he leaned over and kissed Matthew soundly. "I love it when you sing. You're so talented, sheesh! Way to outshine the awesomeness, Matt!"

A tinge of red spread across the blond's cheeks. "Oh, stop it, Gil. You're not so bad on that guitar, either."

Huffing, he faced Matthew. "Says the pro who writes his own and gets major deals from big record companies trying to sign him."

Laughing, the other elbowed him in the ribs. "I said stop it. What's for dinner?"

"…you're always hungry, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"And you still stay so thin…but whatever. I was thinking we could stop at that place downtown, you know, that local's favorite?"

"Sounds good."

"Sweet."

Prussia grinned and kissed him again. "We should do this more often."

"What, go out to eat?"

"No! It's always about food, isn't it! I mean the song thing we had going on, stupid."

"Oh. Sure, why not? It's kinda nice. And hey, take it back! I'm only thinking about dinner because I'm hungry."

"Sure, sure."

"It's true!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

"Hey Gil?"

"Hmm?"

"Race you to the ocean!"

"What!"

Without further prompting, the two flew down the stairs, guitar lying forgotten in their mad sprint to the beach. It was always like this; silly competitions for bragging rights and giggles.

Sand flew from beneath his feet as he chased his gold-touched blond, skimming over the ground and catching up in a few strides. He laughed openly when he reached the water's edge and dove in, submerging himself in a world of greens and blues.

"Hey, idiot!"

Coming back up for a breath of air, he was assaulted with multiple splashes, effectively blinding and meant in good fun. Shaking the water from his hair, he smirked and doused the other, dragging him under the water while pushing him through the curling wave and drenching them both in the process. Spluttering, Matthew resurfaced and pulled him under in revenge.

Finally tired of their antics, they stepped out of the salty water and back into reality, matching grins and red eyes apparent on both faces.

"Hey, Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

Smiling, he looked at the man next to him and sighed, reaching over to kiss him lightly on the nose. "Love ya too, Matt."

AN :

You guys. I am SO SORRY about this ending. It was supposed to end a while back, but I didn't want to post something about 300 words long. And since silver's at the beach, have some PruCan! /shot


	2. Ignition

AN: Written to the song 'Ignition' by Toby Mac.

* * *

His unnerving grin stretched into a feral smirk, one he knew that would send shivers up spines.

Thin sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting striped shadows on the floor, the pattern resembling iron prison bars. The gray day threatened with rolling thunder, the sky lit with electricity and blinding flashes. Not the best conditions for a war, but hell, what did he care? He wasn't a nation anymore, and thus felt he should be kept out of these younger countries' squabbles.

He shifted his stance, leaning against the ripped walls and fading paint. The war efforts had pushed the German troops he controlled into a tight situation, and as of now he was maintaining possession of the abandoned supply factory. It wasn't much to be proud of, but it was better than facing the other team out in the open. Currently, it was shelter, and he was grateful for the fact.

In the corner of his peripheral vision, the silhouettes of men moved around the perimeter of the building. _Shit_. He had been caught.

The war had dredged on, years of fighting boiling down to a mess of confusion of who had the upper hand. Really, it was all the same. Lives lost, the innocent turned into monsters made of nightmares, the dead piled high on street corners. No one truly 'won' in the end.

The steady sound of boots clicking on the floor below tensed his frame instinctively. The sound of gunfire had faded long ago along with his force, but that didn't mean he would give in without a fight. He was Prussia. He was _awesome_. And the awesome didn't surrender.

Considering his options, he cast his eyes around the building, contemplating his next move. There were twenty of them. Twenty guns intent on obliterating his existence, aimed for his heartbeat. Twenty wasn't worth his time.

The factory had been left long before the war had started; dust was piled high into the corners, sandbags holding down aged merchandise. This would work to his advantage.

He quietly slid his sword from the sheath resting against his side; he knew it was dated, but metal blades would never run out of ammunition, and were worth so much more than guns in his eyes. However, it the saying 'never bring a knife to a gun fight' still rang true. Removing the safety with a single, small click, he let a fearsome smile split his profile. This is where the fun began.

Slitting the sandbags, he tilted them over the balcony from where he was perched; they exploded in puffs of smoky dust and grit, filling the air almost effectively as a small bomb. The people below shouted with surprise before raising their weapons; it was too late. Five dead within five minutes. Perfect.

Cutting the ropes that held onto the other sacks of sand, he poured them over as well and allowed himself a dark chuckle. The confusion he had set was priceless and had gained him an upper-hand.

Bang, Bang, Bang. The ringing sound of shots echoed in the high ceilings, a dangerous melody. His trusted pistol left more of the enemy dead while others began choking on their own blood. Seven left.

He catapulted from where he was hidden, landing in the middle of more soldiers. A few swift strikes and the sword was dripping in crimson and burgundy, the colors matching his narrowed eyes. Three to go.

By this point, the air around his was vibrating with bullets as the remaining survivors targeted his body. Twisting to avoid the shots, he let a laugh ring out into the dusky air, knowing full well that he looked like a demon dancing in smoke, a spectral sight that made the bravest falter in their tracks. He was _Prussia_. What in the hell had they been thinking, trying to take him out?! He had seen empires rise and fall; what gave them the idea that now was the time he would be killed? The idiocy astounded him.

Roaring, he darted out of the line of fire and cut one of the remaining men in two, blood soaking his front in a fountain of red, catching in his hair and stark against the white tone.

The fallen man's comrade tried to run; he scoffed in disgust. He missed the days when a solider was made out of steel, willing to die with pride. Anymore it was cowards signing up for the paycheck and false dreams of glory. Two steps and it was over for him as well, the rivulets of blood staining the floor around Prussia in a neat circle.

A cry issued from the last as the tall man dashed at him, gun raised and pointed at his temple. Grabbing the wrist of the other, he pivoted in a swift motion, bringing the sword down in an arc and-

-and letting it drop to the floor.

He was in shock. It couldn't be. Not here, not now. Anything was better than this.

The man's face paled, eyes widening as he realized who had taken out his men.

"Prussia?! _Gilbert_?"

"Oh my God, it's you, Matt."

"You-! You were the one who just killed my squad? Unbelievable."

"Oh my God."

"I thought you were stationed on the other side of the world, helping the Russians!"

"Oh _mein Gott_."

"But instead your over here, killing off my squad like it's just another day- Gilbert! I am talking here! Listen to me, you bastard!"

"Wha- I mean sorry, yeah, but how…I thought you didn't want to be involved with this, what happened to the whole 'I'm sitting this one out guys, pulling the neutral card here' thing?!"

"I thought you weren't fighting in this! I only entered because you had gone missing!"

"Shit. Well, looked like we're both screwed over now."

Sighing, the Canadian slumped to the floor."Yeah. Yeah, we are. Where the hell did you go, anyway?"

"Germany called. Wasn't doing so well. Flew out and got caught up in this mess." He followed Canada down, leaning against the blond's back.

The other let out a frustrated huff. "Of course. Well...do you have any grand plans to get us out of this hellhole?"

He furrowed his brow in thought. "Maybe."

Canada whipped his head around in surprise, looking at his face in disbelief. "No way."

"Yes, way. I have a few buddies that could help us get back to the Canadian border. Two lives 'lost' due to the growing casualties. Both of us pronounced dead, where we can go home and wait this one out, like we had been doing before I got drafted by my dick of a brother."

"Are you serious?!"

"Matthew. We are in the middle of a war zone. I am being very serious here. Don't you dare doubt my awesomeness!"

Silence fell as the two men considered their options. Matthew broke the quiet first. "I can get us out of here; my troops have dug an alternate route back to base so we don't have to go through the gunfire again. And if your 'friends' can get us back to the border like you say, then we're golden."

Prussia nodded in agreement. "I'm sure they'll help us out. And by the way, aren't you pissed at me for killing your squad?"

At the question, a ghost of a smile played across the other's lips. "You have no idea how livid I am right now. But I'm happier that I found you, regardless of our situation."

"I love you."

The statement hung in the air for a few moments before the sentiment was returned. "Love you too, Prussia, you bastard that got us into this is the first place. Ready for this?"

"Ready."

"Then let's go."


	3. The Shipped Gold Standard

The metro jerked and shuddered as it moved away from the worn station, florescent lights flickering in and out in time with the train's wheels while washing the passengers in dim shadows and contrasting white.

The man anchored himself, gripping the pole tightly and shifting his bag more comfortably on his back, face haggard with matching suitcases below his eyes, the smoky black outlining expressive russet with atramentous charcoal.

He was exhausted. There was a numbing weariness that clung to his thoughts, a fatigue so deep it was felt in his very being. The last few days were a blur, long hours and longer days that began to have no meaning, everything a collage of shaky memories and faint recollections.

And yet he kept going.

Because, at the end of these long days, awaited an irreplaceable person. One who he had given his word to.

He had become used to breaking promises. He did whatever it took to get to the top in the industry, cheating and lying and using people to become one of the names stamped at the top of files, black ink outlining documents that spoke of his success.

He would not break this promise, though. It was the one thing that he would never give up. This promise was not about keeping secrets or a slip of paper into a pocket. This was about trust.

Damn if he would give it up for a job. This trust was something he held closest, something he was proud of. It was his reason for taking the last train home.

At the end of the day, it didn't matter about his paycheck, or the problems he dealt with, or the people shouting in his ear, trying to sway his opinion.

At the end of the day, what mattered was his love.

And the fact that he would be coming home, just as he promised all those years ago.

* * *

_AN: This was a complete late-night muse. Wrote to 'The [Shipped] Gold Standard' by Fall Out Boy, even if the song doesn't match the plot. it's a hell of a good song, if you've never heard of it. I'm a big FOB fan, so I might be a bit biased :)_


	4. ET

He leaned, sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown recklessly across the back while the other clutched at the man's jacket, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. The blond above him straddled his waist and pressed into the affection eagerly, all traces of modesty gone while he shrugged out of his top with a growl, moving to dust love bites and bruises along the albino's collarbone.

Twisting, he smashed their lips together again, interrupting the attention given to his neck and closing his eyes. His ribs stung as nails clawed their way under his shirt; he could care less. Nothing mattered besides the moment.

His fingers scrabbled for purchase as their kiss transformed into something darker and dirtier, sinful and sweet and leaving traces of his taste lingering in his mouth. Inhaling sharply as the other flicked his tongue against his teeth, he pushed back the lust that sent little shivers up his spine and threaded his hands through blond hair streaked lighter by the arrogant summer.

The Canadian tugged of his shirt and latched onto his chest; he arched sharply to the touch and breathed a shuddering sigh into the air, loud in comparison to the silence that had reigned before.

Dark chuckles tickled against his skin; scorching kisses and livid scratches marked his abdomen, each one located lower than the last. He loved how everyone mistook what was his as a timid, quiet person; he was the only one who knew how he could really be and wanted it that way. He knew how he took that assumption and broke it with nights like these, the evening hours seemingly never ending and infinite. And even though he'd never admit it, he treasured being abused and loved and underneath the person who he staked his life upon.

"Look. At. Me." The words were several shades lower, and the tone sent his eyes snapping open, gazing into hues of lavender shaded with dirty intentions and lust-filled promises.

Smirking, the grin fell as the other kissed him again, dragging his tongue down the side of his jaw and leaving rich red reminders and smoky blue marks, a note to the world telling other that he belonged to Canada, now and forever.

And he wanted it that way.

Now and forever.

* * *

AN:

This was...suggestive. So sorry about that, but while I was listening to my music on shuffle, the song "E.T" by Katy Perry came on and I was hit with this snapshot of a scene. And I don't even like Katy Perry, so feel lucky that her song prompted this.

Cheers,

Mick


	5. Valse de la Lune

They twirled in between light-footed couples, an impromptu dance across cobblestone and the friendly yellow of streetlamps. The air, cold and brisk and turning their breath into translucent smoke that weaved and followed their pivoting forms, hung with the chill of autumn. The night was incandescence, lit with stars scattered across the ink-stained sky that held constellations of blue and silver, winking from their heights in the stygian atmosphere.

He smiled and tightened his fingers around the hand firmly grasped in his, letting a grin transform his features from the nonchalant expression he wore into something that better reflected his mood. The other glanced at his face before pressing closer, returning the affection by leaving the faintest brush of lips over their intertwined fingers.

The live music rose and fell, harmonizing across the stone that held the shadows of many. He loved moments like these; unplanned and simple fun spent in the company of the person he adored. Tilting his head up, the Prussian gazed openly at the slighter, taller of the two, watching how the light caught the indigo and framed delicate features in auric highlights.

Canada found him staring and fixed him with a stern look, but it did nothing to stop the red tint from spreading over the blonde's face. "Stop that."

"Hm?" His grin split into a wider smirk as he leaned up to softly kiss the other, knowing full well that Canada hated when he wouldn't hide his admiration. It was always something about 'embarrassing' and 'not that special'; Gott knew that he'd be the last to realize how much he meant to the albino.

Sighing, Canada kissed him back before halting their waltzing. They stood fixed in the center of the cavorting silhouettes of others, two people underneath the luminosity of the moon rising high over the pageant festival. Their fingers locked closely and securely, the instruments keening around them, the untouchable midnight above- it was hard to believe that moments such as these weren't of a dream.

Prussia ducked his head, suddenly swept with the gratitude that only the broken could understand. Here he was, a shattered nation still picking up the pieces of his past, a person so destroyed that all he had left to offer was the ghost of a former identity. And yet, for unfathomable reasons, Canada still loved him. It went against all forms of logic; after all, what could he contribute to the other? He was often naïve, rude, crass, and a bit of an idiot to put it slightly. He had no land that he could offer; but then, why would the world's second largest country want something that was already plentiful? He didn't understand.

"You okay?" He could hear confusion color the tone of Canada's voice, and he was glad for the fact that the other couldn't see his expression.

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm alright." He held the other tightly in his arms, and grinned into Canada's jacket, thankful for all the reasons he could imagine. Here he was, a shattered nation, and yet happened to be the luckiest man in the world. His heart ached at the thought of it.

"Cana- Matthew?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He could imagine the look on his love's face; it was the same whenever he said little phases out of the blue with no offered explanation. It was a mix of concern and amusement and sadness. It was an expression that reflected the fact that Canada cared about someone like him. It was another fact he was grateful for.

"What for?"

"For you." He tried to covey it simply; he could only hope that Canada – no, Matthew – knew exactly how much he adored him. He could never it prove it through affection; it was one of those rare emotions that someone felt deep down, in the roots of their being; it was something that Prussia knew to be right because it _felt_ right. He knew Matthew was the one, the only one, which he wanted to spend the remainder of his years with. Matthew would never cease to have his love because he would never want to leave someone as lovely as him.

"Stop that!"

He looked up so as to better view the Canadian. There was a great dusting of red across the other's cheeks. Laughing, he got a soft smack across the top of his head for his amusement at the other's expense.

"You're adorable, you know?"

"Shut up."

"Alright...although, seriously; thank you, Matt." He leaned into the other and let out a breath, sending a column of white smoke, brighter under the moon's influence, into the air. He was so, so lucky.

"It's...Gilbert, I love you. Forever, and I mean that. Now, it's gotten a bit colder for my liking, do you want to run and grab Hot Cocoa or something before heading back to the flat?" Canada wrapped his arms around the shorter man's middle and kissed him lightly on the nose; Gilbert flushed and smiled,nuzzling closer into their embrace.

"Yeah, that sounds fine."

"Great then, let's get going."

Taking the offered hand, he followed his blond into the night, out of the dancers that still moved beneath the moon's pale light. The music swelled with the deep night, a scene that wavered among the fringe of fantasy and reality. He knew it couldn't be an illusion though; after all, the feeling of righteousness, the feeling that he belonged, the feeling that he knew that he would be forever following the person he loved, was there regardless.

And it was all he wanted.

* * *

_It's been forever since I have uploaded anything. But here is a small thing, written back last year, that I decided to post on FF. More to come soon as an apology for being absent for so long! x _


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